


needle in the hay.

by Hodgy



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post All Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgy/pseuds/Hodgy
Summary: Adam can feel the Devil’s hand on his shoulder, burning a hole through his flesh and down to the bone. Can feel him curling fingers around his heart and ripping it from his chest. Can feel him lifting the bottle to his lips and whispering in his ear ‘take another sip’.He’s been alone this entire time, hasn’t he?
Relationships: Kenny Omega/Adam Page
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	needle in the hay.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the elliott smith song of the same name.

The night air is thick and milky black, buzzing with humidity and excitement, and Adam feels himself choking as he breathes it in. He’s leaning against a dumpster, brand new tights scratched up at the knees, on his last mouthful of beer and surrounded by a semi-circle of empty bottles.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been; since their match, since Kenny left through the backstage door, furious and cursing his name with the Bucks in tow. 

The show didn’t end long ago. Adam watched the crowd filter out into the night from his spot at the side of the stadium, listened to the excited chatter of the talent congratulating each other on a good show inside, heard the ring crew packing up the barricades and bidding each other goodnight.

Adam was here for all of it. Drinking his way through a crate of Budweiser and swallowing down the urge to slam his fist over and over again into a wall.

the bottle empties, and he crawls across the concrete, searching for another. The ground his filthy, and stones dig into his palms, but that doesn't stop him. He just needs _ more. _

He finds another. It’s half-empty - someone else’s. It’s flat and foul when it reaches his tongue, but Adam doesn’t care. He knocks it back without complaint, let’s it sink to his stomach to sit with the rest.

Adam can feel the Devil’s hand on his shoulder, burning a hole through his flesh and down to the bone. Can feel him curling fingers around his heart and ripping it from his chest. Can feel him lifting the bottle to his lips and whispering in his ear  _ ‘take another sip’ _ .

He’s been alone this entire time, hasn’t he?

_ Another sip. _

He’s tried, tried and tried and tried again. Never enough, never enough, never enough.

_ Another sip. _

Adam buries his face in his hands and  _ yells.  _ It’s a pathetic sound - half retched sob, half wail, and he presses the lip of the bottle so hard against his forehead that it will probably bruise, tempts the glass into smashing and splitting his skin open wide; painting the ground red with blood. It doesn't. Adam hates himself for how disappointed he is at that.

His future is barren, uncertain, and he’s managed to lose the only three things he cares about. 

His championship. The thing he’s worked so hard for, the reason he’s spent years on and off of planes, travelling the world, performing in dingy bars and stadiums alike. The culmination of it all. A piece of leather and metal he’s held so desperately on to this past year that he’s lost everything else in order to keep it.

His friends. The Elite - the tight-knit little family they’d made together. Misses their laughter and their light and their goofing off back-stage. Misses nights spent in Japanese hotel rooms taking turns filming each other on Matt’s cellphone. Misses Nick and his wit, his support, his quiet demeanour. Misses Matt like a big brother, one who he fights with but ultimately loves with his entire heart. Misses Cody and his leadership, his sage advice. Misses them all.

And Kenny.

He misses Kenny, with his smile and his stupid jokes and his hair and his unrelenting passion for the sport he loves. Adam realized a long time ago he would do anything for Kenny to look at him with that passion in his eyes, that fire.

Adam doesn’t know where it all went wrong; where it all turned from something that brought him so much happiness to something so twisted, so mangled and so  _ wrong. _

He’d thought  _ maybe. _ Maybe there was something.

Maybe there was something a week ago when he’d helped Kenny fasten his kneepads and Kenny had looked down at him with a smile so tender Adam felt his heart leap in his chest.

Maybe there was something the week before that when Kenny was in his hotel room pressing his back into the pillows and kissing him slow.

Maybe there was something last night when Kenny had run his fingertips down his spine and told him  _ “everything’s going to be okay.” _

There  _ had _ to be something.

There’s this sick feeling at the pit of Adam’s stomach and it feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of of his throat. No matter how hard he forces it down it keeps coming back. Every time he blinks, every time he swallows down another mouthful of warm beer, every time he squeezes his eyes shut and sees the black abyss, the feeling gets worse.

He sits in silence for as long as he can manage, drains every drop from his sad collection of bottles, until-

“Fuck, Adam."

A pair of boots appear by his feet, and then a hand is in his hair, combing through his tangles, scratching over his scalp. The bottle he’s holding drops out of his hand and to the ground. It bounces off the concrete; rolls away and out of sight.

The boots are familiar, and so is the voice. 

Adam can’t look up, so instead, he heaves a sob, and he clutches onto the hem of Kenny’s shirt, wraps arms around his waist, and Kenny sighs above him - tucks a wayward strand of hair behind his ear.

“I’m sorry.” Adam chokes, clinging so tightly to the shirt that he thinks his nails might rip through the fabric. 

“I’ll do better.” He pleads, and he feels like a desperate child, hanging on to his mother’s skirt on his first day of school.

Kenny is silent, continues carding his fingers through Adam’s hair, before settling them at the base of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Kenny says, barely loud enough for Adam to hear “we’re okay.”

And then, Kenny’s dropping to his knees, and he’s hauling Adam up and into his arms, holding him tight to his chest, cradling the back of his skull with one hand and looping a secure arm around his waist with the other.

“I’m sorry, too.” Kenny whispers into his hair, and Adam lets his chin sink into Kenny’s shoulder, lets himself to feel Kenny’s hair tickle his cheek, lets the sickness in his stomach ease just a little.

For the first time that night, Adam takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to tahnee for being the biggest hangman simp on earth
> 
> this is what happened after the show i had a little camera set up outside daily's place and believe me when i say i am telling the truth
> 
> kenny really called hangman his significant other and then crushed his hopes and dreams a couple hours later. cheers mate! 
> 
> anyway i am sorry if there are any spelling errors etc. i am still Very tipsy from all out. thank y'all for reading and for your support as always <3
> 
> twitter: @boutmachines


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